


Your Mother's Eyes

by Jetsun1119



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts, Kinda Fluffy, Next Gen, Other, harry is a teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-14 23:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetsun1119/pseuds/Jetsun1119
Summary: Harry unexpectedly finds himself exactly where he was at 11 years old, but from the other side of the desk...





	Your Mother's Eyes

Harry was nervous. Scratch nervous, he was terrified, scared stiff, shaking in his boots.

"Get a grip, Potter," he snapped aloud at his reflection. "They're a bunch of bloody kids, for Merlin's sake!" It didn't help much, and his hands still shook slightly as he reached up to straighten his tie. He had chosen a neutral navy with tiny white dots, which Hermione assured him wet well with his conservatively cut blue teaching robes. "Maybe this is a mistake," he fretted, running a hand through his already rumpled hair, and then hastily flattening it. "I'm not cut out to be a teacher."

"Rather too late for that decision," his mirror said drily. Just his luck, he had purchased a mirror with a wry, sarcastic bent, almost Snape-like in some of its blunter comments. "Chin up and get out before you're late to your first class."

"Appreciate the support," Harry muttered, giving his hair one last once-over with his well-used comb. Hermione had enchanted it at some point so that it would tame his hair, but he suspected that the charm was wearing off because his cowlick was standing up defiantly. A hasty Sticking charm and three minutes spent tying stubborn laces later, Harry was on his way to his first ever Defence Against the Dark arts class- first year Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Headmistress McGonagall, in her infinite wisdom, had seen the fallacy of putting Gryffindor and Slytherin together and had switched the class composition so that things would run more smoothly. According to Hermione, who had been teaching Arithmancy since she was 20, the Slytherin-Ravenclaw class was intense, usually respectful, and highly competitive. Great.

He was a few minutes early so he sat in his chair and mentally reviewed the board-writing spell Hermione had taught him. He never really could get the hang of household-type spells, which was why his bachelor flat, and now his rooms, looked like a mild tornado had ripped through.

"Scribius Creta," he murmured, flicking his wand. "Dicto. Defense Against the Dark Arts." Nothing happened. Harry cleared his throat and tried again, this time being careful to enunciate the words, as Hermione had instructed. "Scribius Creta. Dicto. Defense Against the Dark Arts." To his amazement, words began appearing on the blackboard, smooth even words, nothing like his own chicken scratch handwriting. Defense Against the Dark Arts the chalk wrote. Professor H. Potter.

No sooner had it finished than he began to hear footsteps coming down the corridor. "That'll be the first years" he thought, steeling himself. The classroom door opened slowly and a dark-haired boy peeked around the doorframe. Harry nodded encouragingly at him, and the opened the door and slipped inside, followed by a girl with blonde pigtails and another with straight dark hair. All wore the Ravenclaw crest on their robes. They were followed by a rapid succession of first years until every seat was full. The were ll very small, and were looking at him with huge, curious eyes.

Harry swallowed against the dryness of his throat, and then waited for the whispering to die down before he began. "Good morning," he said quietly. "My name is Professor Potter, and I will be instructing you in Defense Against the Dark Arts. There is no one way to protect yourself against those who wish to harm you- you must employ your wits and skills to figure out how to keep yourself safe in any given situation. But the most important thing to remember is CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Several students flinched as he bellowed the last two words, and Harry couldn't help but feel that Moody would have been proud. "Never allow yourselves to be caught unaware," he continued in a more normal tone. "I will now call the roll. Reginald Belby?" "Here." It was the dark-haired boy who had entered first. Harry gave him a friendly nod and then continued, noticing that many of the students were children of his former schoolmates. Merlin, it made him feel old. "Harriet Bulstrode?" He got all the way through Mai Jorkins, who he was nearly positive was the daughter of Cho Chang before he came to the name he had been dreading. "Scorpius Malfoy."

He was sitting in the back of the classroom with the same easy elegance that Draco had always displayed. He looked just like him, too, with a pointed chin and sleek, white blond hair.

"Here sir," he drawled, and Harry took and instant dislike to the slow, lazy way he raised his hand. Then the boy looked up and all the breath left Harry's lungs. He had his mother's eyes. Ginny's soft, warm eyes stared at him from Draco's finely featured face and it was enough to make his knees buckle as unwanted memories assailed him.

***FLASHBACK***

_ "I'm not your personal toy!" Ginny hissed, every strand of her fiery hair seeming to bristle with indignation. "You don't get to tell me how to spend my time, and with whom. You've lost that opportunity." _

_"Ginny-" he began placatingly, but she was in no mood to listen. _

_"Don't you ever try to tell me what to do again, Harry Potter!" _

_"But you spent a night at the bar with him?" _

_"What's it to you?" She asked stonily. _

_"What about us, Ginny?" "_

_Us?" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "There is no us, Harry! There hasn't been for a while now, and it's not because of me, either." _

_"I thought we were waiting," he said weakly. _

_"I waited six years, Harry," she said, now pacing the small living room. "Six BLOODY years while you dithered and dabbled and said you weren't ready to commit." "But I-" "I can't do it anymore." Tears began to gather at the corners of her eyes, sparkling like diamonds in the light. "I put my life on hold for you for six years. I passed up countless dates and job opportunities because you said you just needed to work things out before we could be together. I wanted to be with you, Harry, but I just can't wait any longer." _

_There was a long pause and then she picked up her hand bag from where she had tossed it on the sofa. "Goodbye, Harry." _

_"Ginny, wait!" he was on his feet with one hand on the door knob, panic knocking the breath from his lungs. "I'm ready Ginny, we can get married tomorrow if you want! Just don't go!" _

_"I'm sorry Harry," she said, and she really did look sorry. She put a gentle hand over his lifting it off the doorknob. "It's just too late." She opened the door, and the last thing he saw was her deep brown eyes, soft with regret and shiny with tears as she closed the door on a chapter of their lives_.

***END FLASHBACK***

Harry was seized with a sudden urge to put the little ferret-spawn in his place, wipe the smirk of his pretty lips. As he opened his mouth to ask the boy about Lord Voldemort's use of Inferi, a familiar, silky vice echoed in his head. "Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity.…Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?...Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything….Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry closed his mouth and took another hard look. This time he could see that the still-raised hand was trembling slightly, and the smirk was more like a hesitant smile. Harry gave him a nod, although it still felt slightly forced. "You have your mother's eyes," he said quietly, and continued to call the roll. "Rosa Moon."


End file.
